


The Safeword Is Shabba

by gala_apples



Category: Breakout Kings
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Caning, Gen, Kinky Gen, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie's monitoring everyone, Ray's violently protecting people's safety, Erica's making connections and solving problems, Lloyd's taking whatever crap authorities give him. It's just another day at the brothel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Safeword Is Shabba

**Author's Note:**

> I had no idea how to fill my 'caning' prompt for kink_bingo. I have discarded scraps of about six different fics over different fandoms. Nothing was working. And then it just hit me; if everyone in Breakout Kings was a sex worker, Lloyd would be a perfect sub in need of getting out of his head. BAM. PROBLEM SOLVED.

Recently Charlie’s been watching more closely when Lloyd has a client. Sooner or later Ray’s going to call him out on it. Charlie’s not entire sure how he’ll react when that day comes. 

He could stay professional. It’s his job, after all. He was hired to watch the room feeds, and make sure no clients are getting out of line. He’s also supposed to make sure that the workers don’t charge too much. That he slacks on a little, he must confess. If the client can afford to pay it, why shouldn’t Philly charge higher than base price? Ray might roll his eyes if Charlie says he’s just doing his job, but he probably won’t push it.

Or he could take it another route; go truthful. Charlie’s been on edge for a bit with Lloyd. Ever since one of Lloyd’s regulars, Damien, ignored a safe word and continued to whip him for the minute it took Charlie to dispatch Security. The bastard was skilled with a whip, nothing was injured permanently, but that’s not the point. Even sex workers have the right to say _no, stop_. Ray’s got kind of a soft spot for Erica, he might understand. Besides, Charlie’s not neglecting anyone else he’s assigned to. He still flicks through their feeds. He just keeps Lloyd’s up full-time.

He could even admit to curiosity, if he was willing to risk his job. The paperwork staff aren’t supposed to mingle with the hands on staff. Partially for the exact reason Charlie now has. If anyone on Security cares about one worker vastly more than everyone else they’re assigned to, they’ll hone in. Patrol less if they’re foot security, monitor the worker more if they’re feeds security. Worst case scenario they’ll get possessive and intimidate clients. It’s not quite an accurate portrayal though. Charlie doesn’t want to have sex with Lloyd. He’s not gay, doesn’t have a drop of voyeuristic interest in any of the two male interactions that happen hourly across his bank of computers. What he wants is the other stuff Lloyd does. Lloyd is a professional submissive. He’s not the most booked worker, but it’s an important niche for any brothel to have. He gets the overflow from professional BDSM workers who keep their pants on. Lloyd provides the sex some clients need with their BDSM. And the more Charlie watches it, the more intrigued he is.

“Boss?” Charlie tries for respectful recognition when Mr Wendell appears out of nowhere, but he’s pretty sure he just sounds questioning. It’s strange though, that he’s here. Wendell is hardly ever at the brothel, and when he is he’s in the lounge or to talking to the paperwork staff. He acts like Security is a necessary evil.

Wendell steals one of the chairs -and wow Ray won’t be happy when he gets back from lunch and has nowhere to prop his feet- and pulls it up alongside Charlie. He points a finger at the screen hosting Lloyd’s feed. “Keep it on here.”

Charlie can’t tell him he never changes it, that would be grounds for termination. He just nods. A moment after Wendell says so, a person knocks twice and lets themself into the room, as per front desk instructions. The man that walks in this time is black, a deeper shade than Charlie’s own skin, and skinny. He looks a little thuggish, but Charlie won’t hold that against him. He was pre-screened, which means he wasn’t obviously violent and he has the money to be here. Beyond those two factors, all clients are accepted.

Charlie not a receptionist. His job is not to greet clients. Still he has his rituals, like every other human being. One is to say hello to his screens every time a new individual walks into a work room. It’s just plain mannerly to him, a magic way to invoke other people being mannerly. He can’t bring himself to not say it, not for Lloyd, but he does try to say it under his breath. No doubt Wendell would look at him weirdly.

“Hey. I’m Shea.” He holds out his hand. 

Lloyd, assessing the situation the way he’s so good at, figures out it’s either genuine, or a trap Shea wants him to fall for. Either way the answer is the same. Lloyd pulls himself out of his head down palms flat position -submissive, but obviously waiting- on the bed and crosses to where Shea is to shake his hand. It must not be trap because nothing happens.

“Do you want to wear a collar for our session?” Shea asks. Charlie happens to know Lloyd loves them, he’s witnessed a hundred negotiations. It comes as no surprise that Lloyd bows his head after opening a dresser. There’s a selection of five or six, Shea picks the metal one.

The next part of the negotiation is normal; hard limits and safewords and does talking during interest you. Shea would rather use the traffic light system, to which Wendell subtly nods his approval. Lloyd agrees, confident that his guardian angel Charlie will respond if things get more serious than ‘red’. He has proof of concept, after all. 

Then they move on to the portion that Charlie is fascinated by. The part that if not for a dozen different reasons including but not limited to losing his job and his wife divorcing him, he’d pay to try with Lloyd. Lloyd bends over the sawhorse, stomach and chest flat against the padding. He’s still got some bruises from his last shift, although they’re pretty close to faded. Not every client wants impact play, or wants it to the point of bruising. Charlie wouldn’t even say half. A lot are satisfied with spanking and anal while his ass is still hot, or bondage. A surprising number of people come to Lloyd for breathplay, which actually isn’t very surprising when you think about it. You can suggest play spanking to a spouse. ‘Let me choke you while I come on your face’ is more difficult. 

After tonight though, Lloyd’s going to have marks. A lot of marks. Shea bypasses all the thicker, thuddier gear and goes straight for the cane. It’s blood bound to Lloyd, of course. Charlie’s not sure what they do to address that for subs that come to the brothel wanting to be caned. But it’s not his bank of feeds, so it’s ultimately not his problem.

Shea presses the cane against Lloyd’s ass. If Charlie was there he’d hold off, let Lloyd wonder what’s going to happen. But maybe it’s the anticipation and dread Shea likes.

“You’re going to count for me. If you miss one it’ll be like it never existed and I’ll have to do another. I don’t want to hear screaming, man. That hurts my ears, and I know you wouldn’t disrespect me like that, right?”

“No sir.”

“That’s right,” he replies, chipper, smacking a hand on Lloyd’s hip for emphasis.

The first swing moves through the air quickly. Charlie can hardly blink before the rattan is slapping Lloyd’s skin. Lloyd gasps and his body rocks forward. His “one” is more stunned than anything. Shea draws the cane back and takes a moment to admire the weal left on Lloyd’s skin. Charlie can’t fault him for it. It does look pretty amazing.

The next few strokes are smoother. Lloyd doesn’t move as Shea strikes his ass from either side, working his way down to thigh crease. It’s like he’s found his zen, knowing what Shea’s going to do, and what he’s going to do in response. Then comes the time when knowing isn’t enough to maintain calm. Shea begins to hit the cane over skin he’s already struck. The weals flush white as he does it, before turning a painful red. Lloyd starts gasping after each hit, like the impact made him forget how to breathe for a moment and he has to catch up. Charlie has to ignore how he’s getting hard, if not for Wendell than for Lloyd. His task is Lloyd’s safety, not jerking off. Even if Lloyd’s ass and legs are irresistibly red. 

Shea asks for a colour and Lloyd says green. Shea frowns just slightly. It’s not the persona he’s trying to convey, but Lloyd can’t see him, so it doesn’t matter. Shea splays his fingers and puts his hand on Lloyd’s ass. Charlie would guess from Lloyd’s gasp that there’s a fair bit of pressure.

“Colour,” he asks again.

“Green,” Lloyd moans.

Shea still doesn’t look the most confident but he clearly decides to respect Lloyd’s ability to know his own boundaries. He walks away from the bench for a moment to get out a pair of surgical gloves from a different drawer of the dresser. Hands protected from the possibility of blood, Shea begins his third series of strikes. The first reddens the skin even more, a pure beet red. Lloyd chokes out the count, voice wet. The second breaks the skin. Lloyd doesn’t scream. He cries. 

Shea waits a moment then puts a gloved hand on Lloyd’s back. “You didn’t count, my boo,” he says softly.

Lloyd stammers out sorry and begins sobbing. Shea rubs his back for a minute, until Lloyd gets it out.

“Three more, boo. All I’m askin’ is three more. One missing one and two for good luck. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Lloyd nearly visibly picks up the pieces of himself, adjusting on the bench and raising his head. He breaks again against the first in this set of three, but to Charlie it looks cleaner. Healthier sobbing than the bout he just stopped. The last two happen relatively without fanfare, Lloyd crying as he counts their numbers. Charlie is so hard he could pop, but it doesn’t matter because Shea’s putting the cane down and resting a hand on Lloyd’s back.

“You need to tell me what your self needs. I know what I need; a hug and to clean you up. That was big for me too, boo. But if you need something different we can negotiate.”

“I wanna cry,” Lloyd answers.

Shea swipes a thumb over Lloyd’s cheekbone. “We got all sortsa time for that.”

“Excellent,” Wendell says, pushing his chair back. Charlie keeps one eye on the screen, and the other two screens that have workers with clients, which he’s maybe been neglecting a little. But to be fair he knows Philly and Sam’s safewords like he knows his own name, and would have responded to them no matter what was going on with Lloyd. The other eye darts to Mr Wendell.

“What, sir?”

“Seamus Daniels was on a short list of new hires for a dom position. He’s now moved to the top of the list.”

“So what, this was an audition?”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t have let him try out on me. It’s against policy. Even if it wasn’t, I’m hardly submissive.”

“I agree sir.” It’s the easiest thing to say.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Wendell says as a parting note.

Charlie nods. He will. Lloyd might go home early. He compartmentalises easily, probably part of being a genius, so mentally he’d be able to handle another client. But not all clients like proof of the dom before them, which there’s plenty of. Straight up fucking isn’t much of an option either, Lloyd’s ass is out of commission for the time being. Whether he does or doesn’t leave, Charlie will keep his eyes on his bank of feeds. He might like Lloyd best, but he knows how to do his job.


End file.
